


i call him the devil, because he makes me wanna sin

by somhiuld



Series: you set me ablaze [1]
Category: NJTTW, SECHSKIES (Band), Winner (Band), 신서유기 | New Journey To The West (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Hand Jobs, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Smut, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 21:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16879953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somhiuld/pseuds/somhiuld
Summary: Minho has a secret, hidden within one of his songs.





	i call him the devil, because he makes me wanna sin

**Author's Note:**

> *peeps from trashcan* 
> 
> friend: what if hope is about mino secretly wishing he could sleep with jiwon  
> me: sure

It’s that time in the promotional cycle of his solo album that he has to hand his albums to fellow artists, in particular his seniors. Though the process is not new to him, it’s the first time that he’s doing so without his other members, and there’s the added pressure of showing that it’s his own work, his own creation.

He hands the albums first to the hyungs he knows from television, the emcees, his fellow cast members from shows that he’s guested on, and they give him encouraging words, easing his nervousness. Some crack jokes about his hair and his piercings, musing about how Minho on stage and Minho on television are like two completely different people.

But there’s one person that Minho dreads giving the album to, and it’s not out of intimidation, and right now this is the person he’s more scared of than Hodong. And it’s because he doesn’t want a certain secret of his to be found out, hidden within his album. The moment he wrote the song, and asked Byungjae to feature on it, he knew within himself whom exactly he was referring to. Not even his other members knew about this (dirty) little secret. But there was something in the deepest crevice of his mind that wondered if ever, it were found out, what would be the possibility of—

 _What the hell Minho, stop. It’s absolutely ridiculous, not to mention, impossible._ Minho mentally chides himself for allowing his thoughts to wander to what he thinks are ludicrous areas. There was no way that that would be remotely possible. It would be too risky to try anything, anyways.

 _You’re acting like a high school kid too nervous to give a love note,_ his thoughts seemed to be scolding him. _Except that this is waaay off from being a love note, a lot less love, a lot more... carnal._ The number one person that Minho feared the most now, perhaps at this moment even more than Yang Hyun Suk himself, was freaking Eun Jiwon.

All because he wrote a song that was basically a four minute long proposition.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He knew there was no escaping it now, and it would be impolite not to, because he’d asked for advice in the production process and Jiwon was more than generous with his advice and input, being very professional about it and being the kind hyung he was.

He knocks on the door of the recording room he knew Jiwon was using, and gingerly stepped in, trying to appear his usual cool self as far as possible. Jiwon and the producers looked up from what they were doing, and grinned when they saw a familiar face.

Jiwon set down his headphones, telling the producers to take five, and stepped out of the booth. “Uh, here’s my album, hyung,” Minho mutters nervously, clearing his throat. “Please listen to it well.” Jiwon takes the album from him, his smile beaming. “Wow, finally our Minho’s hard work comes to fruition,” he remarked playfully.

Minho swallowed uneasily, watching Jiwon look at the album front and back, before studying the tracklist.

“I, uh, have to go to my next schedule. I’ll see you, hyung,” Minho said quickly, before bowing and pacing to the door.

A sudden wave of brief recklessness came over him, and just as he opens the door to exit the recording room, he blurted out, “One of the songs is for— _about_ you, hyung.” He felt his face burn as he barely managed to finish his sentence. He turned halfway to check Jiwon’s reaction, and the older man’s eyes widened, and he stared at the tracklist once more.

“M-me?” Jiwon asked, sounding like he was in utter disbelief of it all. But the disbelief quickly faded into genuine happiness, as he thanked Minho. It made Minho nearly splutter in complete mortification. Maybe Jiwon thought that one of the songs contained an ode to those he respected in the industry, or something totally innocuous. Not what Minho meant at all, particularly the innocuous part.

“Yeah, uh, so you can go listen and find out,” he finished, clearing his throat, before bowing again and leaving a slightly confused Jiwon to the remainder of his recording. “I’ll listen well!” Jiwon called out, as Minho shut the door loudly.

“This kid, really,” Jiwon muses, staring after the door, the corner of his lips quirking. "Wonder which song he means…"

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple days later, when Minho finally gets home after another packed day of schedules, he flops himself onto his bed, arms stretched, staring at the ceiling, feeling like his insides were doing somersaults. His nervousness was probably going to get the better of him someday. He still couldn’t find it in himself to believe that not only did he manage to make it through the conversation with Jiwon, without stuttering or peeing his pants, he actually managed to gather himself to reveal the truth about the song to said person whom the song was about.

He heaved a long sigh. Would Jiwon figure it out? Was he that transparent? Or would he just forget about it? Minho was torn between hoping that Jiwon would completely forget, or that Jiwon would remember, and somehow figure it out. As for what might surmount after, well, he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

As if on cue, his phone vibrates, and the notification is from the exact person he didn’t really want to hear from right now.

 _Jiwon-hyung_  
_11:30pm_  
_I’ve heard the album_

 _11.40pm_  
_Ah thanks hyung! What do you think of it?_

 _11:53pm_  
_It’s nice_  
_And_

 _11:55pm_  
_I want to check with you_

 _12:01am_  
_Sure hyung_

 _12:06am_  
_I think I know which song_  
_But_  
_I want to know if I’m correct_

Minho nearly drops his phone. _Jiwon-hyung listened to everything already? I thought he was busy preparing for his own album,_ he thought, feeling as if his heart might leap out of his chest.

 _12:15am_  
_Okay. So which one?_

 _12:20am_  
_Actually, could I confirm when I see you?_  
_Meet you at the studio in the corner, 11_  
_You know where._

 _12:25am_  
_Okay hyung. I’ll see you. Good night._

Now this was not what Minho really saw coming. Jiwon wanted to meet him in person? He didn’t want to text his guess, but then again, there was a chance that Jiwon might have guessed the wrong song, and might’ve missed out on the meaning of it anyway. Perhaps even the mere thought of Minho dedicating a song to him was flattering, and that alone might’ve sufficed.

Minho’s sleep that night is restless, and he dreams about nothing but fleeing from some unknown force.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning, he wakes feeling as if something had been sitting on his head the whole night. “Are you sure you’re up for anything today? You look so out of it,” his manager wondered allowed, Minho looking as if he didn’t rest for a week.

“I’ll—I’ll be fine, hyung,” he mutters. Of course, his focus for the day is askew, but the others are understanding, thinking he was just fatigued from the humdrum of the promotion cycle.

Just before eleven at night, when the company building was quietening down for the day, save for the few who wanted to stay behind for some overtime, Minho makes his way to the room where Jiwon asked to meet. Minho feels like his heart was in his mouth. Would Jiwon show up, or was he kidding around? Maybe it wouldn’t even take five minutes, he’d just ascertain it for himself and be done with it, and the matter would be behind them.

He couldn’t make out if Jiwon was interested in the first place. He’d tried not to be too obvious in his own interest, maybe initiating a bit of skinship here and there, but nothing out of the norm. He did observe, or rather, catch Jiwon glancing at him when he thought he wasn’t looking—but that too, could easily be chalked to his imagination. Or worse, Jiwon would nope the hell out of there, and then avoid Minho for an undisclosed period of time. Now that scared Minho the most. Jiwon meant a lot to him, and his silly Freudian slip might have just cost him a precious relationship.

He peeps through the small window on the door and to his surprise, Jiwon was already there, scrolling through his phone. He’s early, Minho gulped. He knew better than to keep him waiting any longer, so after a few raps on the door, he carefully walks in, bowing as he did. Jiwon acknowledges him with a nod, before setting his phone aside on the table in front of him. Minho fiddled with his fingers. There was an odd space between them, uncharacteristic for them who’d known each other for a significant enough amount of time.

Jiwon folds his arms. “So, about the song—” he starts, to which Minho quickly replies, “Ah, yes.” Jiwon tilts his head, an amused expression on his face. Minho couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine amusement, or that he was about to be mocked. “Why are you standing all the way there? Is it so awkward, being alone with hyung?” Jiwon asked, sounding mildly offended. Minho muttered a quick apology and closed the distance, walking over to stand in front of him.

“I’ll get to the point then. It’s the one you worked on with Byungjae, right?” he asked, voice sounding almost like a laugh. Minho felt his insides freeze. He was spot on. Suddenly it felt as if the room was about to shrink onto him, and he wondered if he should excuse himself. Minho bites his lip, and coughed out what sounded like a confirmation. Jiwon snickered. G _reat, I’m going to be mocked to high heavens now,_ Minho thought, his eyes averting Jiwon’s.

“I sort of figured it out when you referenced something about being like a student. The lyrics, well, they were, interesting,” Jiwon drawled, deliberately dragging out the last few syllables. Jiwon took a step closer, and closer, until Minho had to back himself up and he felt his lower back bump lightly against the table.

“Is that what you _want_ , Minho?”

“What… what _I_ want?”

There was a sense of something heavy hanging in the air. The air felt thick, all the more because they were in near darkness and the air conditioning wasn’t even on, for the room was barely used. Jiwon laughed, and it sounded more like a cackle than anything, which unsettled Minho greatly.

“ _I want to sleep with you once, I wish I could sleep with you_ —didn’t you say it, you jerk,” Jiwon singsonged, voice teasing.

Minho turned away, giving a slight nod. Jiwon reached up and held Minho’s chin. “Look at me, Minho,” Jiwon ordered, voice husky. Minho felt the blood rush from his head to his toes. Jiwon could probably see that his face was scarlet.

“Can I—”

“Y-yes,” and the next thing Minho knew, Jiwon’s lips were on his, hot, searing, ravishing. Minho responded enthusiastically, enjoying the delightful sounds that exited Jiwon’s mouth when he lightly nipped on his lower lip. Minho let out a soft yelp when one of Jiwon’s hands wandered to cup his ass, to which Minho responded with opening his mouth to deepen the kiss.

They were now flush against each other, and both could sense the other’s growing interest, Minho feeling Jiwon’s hardness through his sweatpants. Jiwon suddenly broke the kiss, their lips separating with a damp sound that sounded almost dirty to Minho.  _Well._ Minho thought, barely collecting himself. He blinked at Jiwon, whose lips were slightly swollen from their kissing, and he was even panting a little. Minho felt a slight sense of pride that he’d just done that to Jiwon.

“We’re not finished here,” Jiwon declared, out of the blue, breaking Minho’s train of thought. Minho stiffened when Jiwon’s hand ghosted over the fly of his jeans. He could tell that Minho was already half hard, and he smirked.

“Let me give you some thanks, for writing such a great song,” he hums, before unzipping his fly. Minho followed up by lowering the waistband of his briefs, freeing his cock. Jiwon wraps his hand around it, and Minho shivers at the sudden touch. Jiwon’s hands were a little cold, having been in the recording studio almost all day. But it wasn’t uncomfortable, and Minho felt as if his brain was turning into dust. Jiwon slowly stroked him, movements calculated, and Minho had to hold onto the table behind him for support.

“S-shit, hyung,” Minho groaned, watching as Jiwon’s eyes darkened as he continued to stroke Minho, from the base to the head of his cock, thumb drawing circles on the head.

“Did you think of this, when you wrote it,” Jiwon asked, voice low, whispering against the corner of Minho’s lips. “Was all this what you thought about?”

Minho covered his mouth, trying to stifle his moans, because he knew he would be loud, and he didn’t want to pique any passerbys’ interest. He bit on the base of his thumb, to which Jiwon took his free hand, swiped it aside and swallowed his moan. Jiwon had started to grind against him too, and Minho wanted to do something, anything, to return the favour.

“H-hyung, let me,” Minho breathed, voice shaky. Jiwon nodded mutely, still stroking. Minho didn’t want to come without the added satisfaction of being able to get Jiwon off. He reached into Jiwon’s sweatpants, tugging his cock out, moving his hand up and down; trying to make Jiwon feel as good as he was feeling. Jiwon groaned, and cursed under his breath. Minho smiles back a shit-eating grin. “Well, this is much better than what I imagined,” he rasped, but Jiwon would have the last word, when he nips at Minho’s jaw, strokes now fast, hands warm on his cock. 

“F-fuck, I— _Jiwon-hyung,_ ” and Minho comes with Jiwon’s name on his lips, and this time, it wasn’t a figment of his imagination. Jiwon follows shortly after, coming with a low growl, spilling all over Minho’s hand. “Holy fuck,” he swore when Minho brazenly puts his index finger into his mouth, licking the bit of come that had gotten on it, eyes not leaving his.

Their legs now felt boneless, and Minho’s body was fully leaning on the table, Jiwon now leaning on him for support, head hung, panting. “Hand me those tissues,” Jiwon huffs and Minho complies, allowing Jiwon to wipe his hands roughly. “Ugh, now I’m all sticky,” he grumbled, to which Minho chuckled at the familiarity of it all. Even with what they just did, he still found something to grumble about.

Minho placed a chaste kiss to Jiwon’s cheek, smiling shyly. “Thank you, hyung,” he chirped.

“I didn’t grant your wish, though,” Jiwon remarks, sounding a little too matter-of-factly. Minho raised an eyebrow in confusion. This was a _lot_ more that he’d hoped for.

“B-but, I thought you’d just—”

“Jerking each other off isn’t _sleeping_ _together_ , Minho-ya,” Jiwon retorts, voice affectionate, and patted him on the head with his clean hand. “Do I have to teach you that too?” he mused, before kissing Minho lightly on the lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Minho does eventually get his wish properly granted, when they’re at Jiwon’s home, and they almost don’t make it into Jiwon’s room, hands fumbling everywhere, clothes being shed on the floor.

Minho also finds that his wish is granted more times than he himself had intended, Jiwon first working Minho open on the bed with his fingers, mouth warm on his cock; Minho mewling, the older man coaxing him that he could be as loud as he wanted, there wasn’t anyone else around—following up by the sound of fumbling with a foil packet, and then Jiwon fucks him properly, Minho’s fingers clawing the sheets.

When Jiwon decides it’s time for them to adjourn to the shower, to wash off the stickiness, Minho wraps his legs around Jiwon and allows Jiwon to take him again, against the wall. His back was probably going to be sore in the morning, but fuck, if it wasn’t worth it. When both of them come down from the high, they trade lazy kisses in the shower, until Jiwon mutters they should get out before their skin turns pruny, to which Minho simply laughs.

Once they’re finally all clean and changed, they head back to bed. Minho finds himself staring at the ceiling, trying to process what had happened. Jiwon lay next to him, and there was no other sound save for their soft breathing. He didn’t dare draw closer, suddenly feeling the need to hold on something, _someone_ —to Jiwon. But he quickly dismissed it as the post-coital sensation that was clouding his mind. This might not mean anything to Jiwon within the next 24 hours, and he didn’t want to have unwarranted high hopes.

“You’re thinking too loudly, I can’t rest,” Jiwon jibes, eyes closed. Minho turned to face the older man, who looked soft with his hair falling on his face, unlike usually when his hair was done upward.

“Since I can’t rest, you should come over here and help,” Jiwon murmurs, flipping over, extending his arms for Minho to come closer. His arms wrapped snugly around Minho, and there was something about it that strangely felt more intimate than all that had passed in the last few hours.

He felt warmth. He felt _safe_. It frightens him terribly. He’d never wanted his real, underlying feelings to leak out.

“H-hyung,” he finds his mouth betraying his thoughts. “It’s late. I shouldn’t impose…” he blurts, to which Jiwon snorted.

“ _Stay_ ,” Jiwon whispers, voice sounding raspy from exhaustion. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t already like you, anyways,” he said, as if he was talking about something mundane, like his favourite colour.

Minho’s heart leaps, and he wiggles closer into Jiwon’s embrace, resting his head under the older’s chin. “I like you too, hyung,” he murmurs into Jiwon’s chest.

“So stay, for as long as you can,” Jiwon yawned, before placing a soft kiss to Minho’s forehead.

That night, Minho’s dreams weren’t about running away.

**Author's Note:**

> title from mino's "hope" (of course) | [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/somhiuld)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


End file.
